“Can a whore really be frigid? That’s kind of a contradiction.” Emma looked at the ceiling. It had crappy-looking drop tiles.
“I try to talk to you. I try to let you in, and you toss my words in my face,” he shot back. “I shouldn’t have expected any of your stupid angel talents to really exist. You’ve always been a fake, even a fake fiancée. No one sees you for what you are but me—well, and maybe God, ’cause He did let me leave Heaven with you.” Everett stood and put his slipper-clad foot on the chair like an explorer claiming new land.
He had a knack. She had to give him that. He could cut right to the bone like a butcher. She’d doubted herself, her choices, but her one certainty had been God’s love. Now, sitting in the cold hallway under the assault of Everett’s words, it was hard to remember what had kept her so sure. She was having trouble remembering His prayer. What if soon enough she forgot Him?
“You’re right, Everett. Maybe I belong here because I can’t bring myself to forgive you. I can’t find any bit in you that’s worth heralding. You want to know why I hate you? Because the only true pleasure I’ve ever seen on your face is when you’re delivering pain: hurting things, people, and animals. It brings you joy. How can I be asked to accept that?”
She looked at Everett, but really she was now focused on her challenge: this fear, this hallway. She wondered if God was letting her stay in Hell until she could forgive Everett for the pain he’d caused. She didn’t think she could do it and mean it.
Everett put down his leg and sat again. He tilted his head inquisitively. “Wait a fucking minute. What game are you playing? Emma, I swear you’d better never say that to me again. How did you find out about that?”
He wasn’t making any sense, or else her brain wasn’t computing anymore. “You wanted answers,” she said. “That’s all I have.”
“How did you know what my mother said to me? Were you there? Were you eavesdropping? I wouldn’t put it past you.” Everett stood and hurled the chair at her.
She flinched, but it exploded into wood splinters against the air, not touching her at all.
“That’s almost exactly what my mother said when she left me!” He curled his fists and lip at the same time.
And then there was a blip in Emma’s heart, just a smoke of a chance of sympathy for this evil bastard. “I’m sorry your mother left you.” And she was. No child should be rejected.
“No, you’re not. Fuck that, fuck her, and fuck you. She said I was broken. Because I liked to kill animals, because I hit her when I wanted something, that’s why she was leaving.” Everett spat his words.
Emma felt the ghost of sympathy give way to revulsion. “Did you do those things?”
Everett turned his back on her and shook out his long hair in an absolute rage. “I did. I killed the animals because they couldn’t stop me. They followed the same patterns every time. Just one drop of kindness, and they were at my mercy. But she didn’t get it. Every time I killed something, I didn’t kill her…She didn’t wait around to find out if I’d ever get brave enough for the real deal,” he added softly.
Emma covered her mouth and nausea rolled in her stomach. He was the worst damn thing.
“So when I found you, I did the same thing. I followed the rules, followed society’s pattern. You said yes. You said you would marry me.” He turned toward her again and stood close to the hunger trap, eyes wild. “But then you didn’t!”
A horrible question forced its way from her lips. “What happened to your mother?”
“Don’t ask about her! Don’t you even open your lying mouth.” Everett grew powerful in his rage. The whole room behind him glowed red, and heat came radiating out. He glanced over his shoulder and laughed. “Yes! Yes, this is what I needed. I needed to remember who I was to get to you. So simple.”
Everett stepped into hunger, but his eyes never wavered. He didn’t twitch with the need to eat like he’d done before. He took sure, confident steps toward her, and Emma’s heart sank. Without the internal plagues, nothing would protect her now. She knew she should run…try…move…but she didn’t have the coordination to rise anymore, so she just watched.
Three footsteps in, the floor around Everett began to vibrate. Both she and he looked around in surprise as a distinctly metal-on-metal noise clanked to life. Everett was yanked back as if on puppet strings, and a gate slammed down, sealing Emma in, away from the Devil.
The cement finally stilled, and Emma’s mouth dropped open as Everett pulled himself to standing. Now, not only was Emma in the center of a Hellacious hallway, there was a jail-like door solidly separating her from an escape. Even if she were able to wade back through the perils, the gate would keep her inside.
“Did you do this?” Everett glared at her and grabbed the bars.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I have a garage door opener stuffed in my armpit. So glad I was able to keep that from you.”
Then she saw a small square of cement begin to glow. When she squinted, she could tell it was a keyboard. Everett followed her line of vision and scrunched down a bit so he could get a glimpse of what she was seeing on her side.
“That’s some sort of control panel,” he announced. “Get over there and try it.” He nodded like this was a brilliant plan, the obvious choice.
“Hey, dimwit. I’m not touching that keyboard—ever. Even if I knew what the Hell it did, I’d never do you a favor, especially one that’d make it easier for you to get to me.” She slowly leaned back, hugging her body to make it more compact.
As she rested, she spared the fool a glance here and there to see if he was making progress. He wasn’t. He tried a mirror on a stick to get a better look at the device, but the hallway prevented him from putting anything between the bars. Minion after minion—scary, hideous, and beautiful, in that order—was brought to stand in the hallway and offer advice, none of which worked. Emma got the distinct impression each minion was only interested in the Hallway as a spectacle, a story to tell the others. None appeared too fond of Everett and his ranting ways or showed the least bit of desire to help.
Emma twisted a bit so she could lie on her side. She focused on the control pad. Jack had installed it, she was sure. The keys were lettered in his messy handwriting. When used, the screen now visible above the keyboard would reveal…something, but clearly it was customized to keep Emma locked in. Jack had brought this whole nightmare into being while he was clearly on the side of evil, and she’d been a distinctly angelic enemy.
Now she knew they were more alike than either could’ve imagined. The last time she’d been in this hallway, she’d been searching for God. Jack had locked Him in the last cell, forcing the Lord to sit on a cot to protect an anonymous soul. But now there was nothing to try for, no one to save. Her job now, her court-mandated time here in Hell, required her simply to exist. So Emma closed her eyes and tried to focus on that, to make it her priority. Just breathe. In and out. Exist.
Exist without love, exist without her friends. Breathe knowing both Jack and Jason had forgotten her.
Emma’s breath hitched, caught on her hopelessness.
Chapter 8
Jack exhaled as they finished interviewing yet another dead end. Violent, the escaped Minion of Sleep, seemed a bit touched in the damn head. Being on Earth’s soil for so long seemed to have twisted her mind. She remembered hints and bits of things from hundreds of years ago and acted as if they’d just happened the day before.
Jack kept flexing and closing his hands, avoiding his last few cigarettes as best he could, while Jason and Dean did their damnedest to soothe the now-scared human who had no idea what Violent was talking about. They all stood in a dark, typical suburban backyard, complete with grill and blow-up pool.
Jack flexed and closed again. A clock was ticking, and with every moment the second hand slapped him in the head, heart, and mind. He couldn’t go anywhere for her, or fight anyone, unless he could find an entrance to Hell. Considering he’d held the keys to the joint for over one
thousand years, it should’ve been easier. But it didn’t work that way. Although he was currently leaning toward stealing some explosives and blowing his way home action-hero style, he knew it wasn’t just depth they needed. There was finesse involved with walking into the kingdom of the damned.
The stupid goddamn hallway—if he’d just built it a little carelessly, Emma might be able to get out on her own. She was clever enough. Of course even then she’d face the minions, beasts, and fucking Everett, the bastard keeping Jack’s throne warm until he could figure out how to be the Devil again. He rubbed his forehead hard, trying to form a clear, convincing plan. The action did nothing but relay his frustration to Seriana.
“Listen, big guy, we’ll get there. I promise we won’t give up.” She touched his arm, trying to be comforting although she was obviously still a little afraid of him. She moved as if she were touching open flame.
He put his endless brown eyes on her pretty face. “Tell me something about her. Tell me something I don’t know.” Jack wanted more of Emma, even if it was from someone else’s memory.
As Seriana thought for a moment, Jack glanced over to Dean and Jason, who appeared to be listening intently as the human launched into a spiel about his latest gardening project. Jack didn’t see a point in this line of conversation.
Pulling her hair back and twisting it easily into a soft bun, Seriana said, “She hummed all the time. I wondered if they were songs she heard in Heaven. You know ‘Angels We Have Heard on High’? I always pictured them singing.”
“I never heard her sing. We had such little time, and I spent most of it scaring the piss out of her.” He snapped and unsnapped the leather cuff on his wrist anxiously.
“You know what? Ever since my brothers and I found out we were half-breeds, I couldn’t see anything good about me. I just couldn’t. I lost my mother and my normal. I love Dean and Jason, but they’re guys. They aren’t exactly sensitive to my feelings.”
Seriana looked down for a moment. “We worked so hard to escape my grandfather—and to just exist—that moaning about the things in my head seemed worthless.” She twirled her thumbs together and waved her hands like wings. “But when she lived with us, it was like I could be a girl again. I’d talk to her about anything. She refused to give up until I believed I was a gift, not a curse. I miss her.” She shrugged, suddenly shy again.
“That sounds like her. Can you believe I hurt her? That I designed tortures to break her? And even knowing that, after living through that—she said she loved me. Me. Of all the damn things.” Jack reached into his jacket, intent on his smokes.
Seriana stilled his hand. “Here comes Violent. Don’t use those things.”
The Sleep Minion hated Jack’s habit. She claimed he was polluting her beloved plants’ air, which he guessed he was. Violent had given up on humans and half-breeds, deciding instead to only love plants. She was tall, crazy, and gorgeous. Her long red hair and purple eyes made her seem like a superhero, though she was far from it. Though ridiculously strong, her lackadaisical attitude (and questionable mental state) prevented her from participating very effectively in good or evil deeds. She was only on this trip because she was all they had, she owed Jack a favor, and most importantly, because Dean evidently looked exactly like her dearly beloved and long-dead Italian lover, Giovanni.
“This isn’t it. This is the wrong house. Be rid of the human. Best to kill him. Come, Dean, escort me to the car.” She walked through the backyard and into the house, flinging doors open as she went.
The human looked in after her, stunned. “Um, sure, lady. Go right into my house.” The man looked from face to face and seemed to sense that something wasn’t right. “Why are you standing that way, like you’re about to pounce?” he asked the half-breeds. “And why was that woman kissing my trees? And where did she go?”
Jack nodded toward the vehicles, sending the rest of them off. He’d make things right with the man. After all, he was the only human among the search party. As the backyard cleared, Jack shook his head. They’d visited fifteen houses like this, looking for the backyard Violent claimed was a portal to Hell. Each failure kept him from getting to Emma.
He clicked his tongue to get the man’s attention. “Hey. That chick? She’s married to a mob boss. If I were you I wouldn’t mention this visit to anyone.” Jack turned and walked through the man’s house as well, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and lighter from an end table as he went. They weren’t the hand-rolled perfection he preferred, but they’d keep his mouth busy.
Seriana was waiting just outside the front door. “Did you calm him down? Make it okay? You know my brothers and I have to stay hidden.”
“Sure, pretty baby. He’s calm as a cucumber’s brother. Let’s roll.”
Jack insisted on driving Violent’s ridiculous Ferrari. Unfortunately, the nice half-breed rode with Violent and Dean in his SUV. That left Jason as Jack’s passenger. Things were awkward around that one, to say the very least. Jack avoided talking to him.
Jack started the beautiful car and closed his eyes briefly as the engine roared like a hungry tiger. He pulled out behind the SUV and followed, hoping the next scattered memory Violent produced would be more fruitful.
“We’re not getting any closer to finding Emma.” Jason gave Jack a hard stare.
Jack maneuvered the car with one hand and lit a cigarette with the other, cracking the window. “I think Violent’s mind is shot. I just don’t have a clue what else to do. I don’t even know what she’s looking for.” He punched the steering wheel. “You remembering anything yet? Because that would be fucking helpful.”
Jason looked out the passenger window. “You know I’m not. That part of my memory is just…gone.”
“Well, you have to try harder. I don’t know if anyone even understands how bad it is down there for her. It’s just horrible.”
“I don’t see how you manage to blame everyone but yourself. If you hadn’t screwed my girlfriend and broken stuff in Heaven, Emma would be fine. Even better? Don’t flop around in Purgatory like a pussy so she has to go up there and convince you to make a choice.” Jason turned fully in his seat to glare at Jack.
“I didn’t want her to come to see me. I didn’t even believe it was her at first.” Jack was too good at lying not to know when he was doing it to himself.
“That’s bullshit.” Jason shook his head and sat back. “You whined up there until you got your way.”
There was only the sound of the sports car’s engine for a nice chunk of time until Jack answered. “If you remembered Emma, you wouldn’t blame me for wanting to keep her.” Jack blinked back his emotion, picturing her golden hair in waves holding the sunlight, her looking at him as if he was her every wish as well. “You should be thankful you don’t.”
Vittorio knew it was time. The three chosen descendants needed to procreate. He looked around the room. His half-minion army looked limp, to say the least. They had no fire in their bellies once they were satiated on blood. That’s what his group lacked: vision. They had no appreciation of the fact that they were mythical beings with the very world at their fingertips.
But that would change with their twentieth generation. Twenty was Vittorio’s favorite number. If everything he’d studied, hoped for, and lusted after came to fruition, the offspring of Dean, Jason, and Seriana would be full-blooded minions at last. They each just needed to lie with one of the half-minions among his ranks—he had some very choice partners picked out—and the product of those relationships would be unstoppable.
His great-grandchildren would find themselves under his command as soon as they opened their eyes. And they’d become the ultimate fighting machines. Vittorio smiled at his daughter, Rebecca. She did not smile back.
“Daughter, you know it’s time to bring the children back to the herd.”
Rebecca was chained to the wall in his living room as if she were some sort of decoration. “Father, you’ll never find my children. This dream you have? It’s going to die.�
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Vittorio felt determination burn within him. “Oh, but you see, I’ve the best bait for those children,” he told her with a sneer. “Which one of your three wouldn’t come back to visit their long-dead mother? It’ll be touching—for a few seconds anyway.” He stepped closer to her and various half-breeds scurried out of his way. Rebecca had been chained to the wall for so long, they scarcely acknowledged she was there.
“I’ll never help you,” she whispered. “You should kill me while you’ve all these assistants. Because make no mistake, I’ll fight for my children’s freedom until my last moment.”
Rebecca barely existed any more, but the mention of her children started a fire in her that her father had to grudgingly respect. He didn’t see that passion in any of his soldiers. “If only you’d be with me, Daughter. You’re so misguided. You see, breeding vampires isn’t easy. You’ve got to be strong enough to eliminate the ones that fail to thrive. You did continue the line, so there’s some usefulness in you. You’ll do this one more thing for me, then I’ll put you out of your misery. No worries.”
Vittorio didn’t share the news that had stirred his interest. One of his sources had spotted three adults who resembled his grandchildren going house to house like vacuum cleaner salesmen. All this time they’d outrun him, bested him at this global game of hide and seek. But now they were slowing down, making mistakes. Tomorrow he’d pack up his army and his daughter. They’d surround the children and take them easily. It would be the sweetest victory.
Chapter 9
Kate had the evening mapped out: She was all set to finish the sweater she’d been knitting and cast on another online order for a glove and hat set. Her favorite chick flick was on cable tonight, and even though she had her own DVD copy of the movie, she still watched it whenever it came on. Why the commercials made it special, she didn’t know. Maybe it was because if the movie was on the TV, being sent into thousands of homes, she could tell herself she wasn’t watching it alone.
Bittersweet Seraphim (The Seraphim Series) Page 6